Twisted Addiction EP

by DiscoAbsurdo

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(free) 05:38

credits

released April 2, 2012

Original Painting By Liam Briscoe. papa-briscoe.tumblr.com
Remixes By Marrow & Soot. marrowandsoot.bandcamp.com

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DiscoAbsurdo AM, Brazil

Experimental electronic duo who met online in March 2009, have not inhaled since. Synths, beats, guitars by Morris via Norfolk, UK. Vox by Olson via NYC. After self-releasing several EP's, and rotating on UK-based Internet radio shows like BBC Norfolk Introducing, DA released an EP and full-length on netlabel Misspelled Records. Since 2012 proud members of the DIY Bandits collective family. ... more

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Track Name: 124 (Twisted Addiction)
What you don’t understand I don’t have to explain
All the trash from my mouth washes down the drain
If you don’t have a name for it, I don’t have to sign for it
No one left to blame for it, I won’t go insane for it
Everybody picks up the pieces of me,
Wasted on the garbage of a burning black sea
Nothing left inside but the basest of needs
I’m nothing but a pile of outspent offerings

With a fire deep inside, even flames can’t guide me
Burning bridges not blazing trails, don’t mind me
I’ll be explanation-free like predictable wildfire charring life
Is what you don’t make of it, define the world within the negative
Beautifully hemorrhaging the causes of a mind
Bleeding out the truth that always kept us in line
I’ll be in the middle of what I never find
A quiet little moment always leaves you behind

Sometimes all lack of hope and common wit
Is all you need to move beyond the age-old bullshit
That haunts your small face every moment you’re awake
See the world for what it is, we’re all a bunch of sticky kids
Don’t smile down on suffering, don’t wink like you won’t suffer in time
Twitchy little guilty needs are all that I can satisfy
Why should I feel bad if that’s all I can afford
And every other hour I go back to being bored

Break me
Please break me open
Tell me if I see anything worth holding on for dear life
I hate you sincerely yours truly
Is a life of burning blessed bloody blankets of fire

It really inspires
Me to get down on my knees and thank your good lord for self-pity
Burning myself in a crouching position
Tragic and noble self-sacrifice is just self-hatred in a thin disguise

The worst part of being held under water,
And suffocating only on the darkest of your dreams
Pull your head above the darkness
Choke only on the streams that were meant for you
Is that I must infer that since the only way to rescue me is by myself
Then the only origin of all this hell is that I did it to myself
But the bloody hugs and kisses of confusion
Will stop me point blank every time I try to yank myself free from it
I can mix up every metaphor and simile with it cuz no one’s even listening to it
When I hold my breath say please breathe me in
And out, hold me under my own hatred and doubt

Your trash eats at you
Do you have the courage to let it go
Your trash eats at you
Do you have the courage to let it go
Your trash eats at you
Do you have the courage to let it go
Your trash eats at you
Do you have the courage to let it go

To empty is to allow life
There is no absolute
To allow life there is no absolute
To allow life there is no absolute
To empty is to allow life
There is no absolute
To allow life there is no absolute
To allow life there is no absolute

I’m not waiting any longer for a breath to take
I’m not waiting for any feelings to fake
What if the only thing I feel is what I think
But I think with my heart
But the only thing I think with said heart
Is that there’s nothing left to feel from the start
Cuz all the world is farce
But you’re not worth my outrage
And even in a song, your bullshit has to be clever,
But my wits are far long gone and forlorn at that
I can summon them back should I wish
You’re just not worth it
One burning little kiss with the fire of disturbedness
And I’m emptying out all my insides of all they ever harnessed
Cuz skill is just another word for habit
And habit’s just another word for repetition
And repeating’s just another way of holding
And holding’s just another way of keeping
And keeping time is just another way to say you’re rhythmically inclined
Which only means you make rigidity and fluidity make love together
Which is just another way to say they fucked each other
Like rabbits
All because you can’t let go of your dirty little habits,
Even when you’re happy to have it,
Your own life knows you’ll never grab it
Cuz you’re too busy grabbing yourself
And you’d love to let go
Just gimme a minute
And every name for mental masturbation has some truth in it
And that is all that addiction is,
Namely all the fiction that the world says it is
Which is, to be exact, something only has-been’s and hacks
Fall prey to,
So fall down and pray that you
Will never succumb too
As well, while you’re down there,
Take a look above and around
And tell me all the functional men and women
Bound for sensible lives and fields of work and study
Don’t publicly shuttle their basest little beasts of desire around with them
Not just bound to be some, but proven to be all
Observably so,
So that all you see when you’re prone to take in the disease
Are men and women sustaining all their existent needs
On not a medicine, not a cure, not even an overused, not an abused medication
But the sickness itself
It’s not an overstated truth to say the points you make are insatiable little trivial
Explosively simple burningly solitary greeds
Pointing back toward nothing but themselves
Their only satisfaction is more of what they haven’t gotten
Everybody trained not to not need
People trained to need what they do not
And so hot headed about it
Because they can’t move their little faces away from the only things they see
Which are mirrors everywhere,
Constantly shining a light down upon them
As if the harness in place around their souls
Were anything but darkness filling in the holes
That the harness makers drilled in to them
To make them need the darkness to fill them in
Which darkness we all see as the light of our shining selves
Smiles back to me in your carefully crafted funhouse mirror
Funny funny, and beautifully true
That is me! Is it not? How could not it be?
Oh god. The terribly ridiculous truth is
In fact, none of it is beauty
It is unbearably vicious
Unfortunately,
It is still, in fact and in fiction,
As true as truth gets.

For all the pretty shades of my grateful little insides
Are really the bloody hell house in which we all reside

And being so hooked on hell,
I am never an anomaly
I am only a far more honest version
Of the world’s perversion
Please break me.
Please take me inside of you.
Please break me inside you.
So that I may feel someone else’s light
Aside from my own
Shining through them
I am done with that reflection
I’m done with that reflection
Silly notion
It’ll be my extinction

You don’t understand
There’s nothing to hold onto
And there’s nothing we haven’t held.
Track Name: Anatta
Good morning,
All my beautifully twisted up souls,
Tied tight to your unknown egos,
I pitch a question to quiet minds
(And to the burningly miserable intellect of a generation that so nobly denounces it):

(Everybody sing along to this one)

What to do
When all that you
Had trusted
Peaceful and sturdy piton of trust
Instead of hitting bedrock
Hits rock bottom,
Pitiful python, sizably deadly, but venom-less
Dead weight needs a sizable impetus
But the man that you had lain with
Is now a pack of wild-horses
Some say cut your losses,
Hard pill to swallow
When suddenly all analogies
Are out the window
And suddenly all your similes
Are like galoshes
Trailing all your dirty weather
Up and down your quiet carpeting
And in a moment
You can only think to strip your mind
Of all its heavy winter layering
Sit peaceful now in your altogether
Each and every minute of your many mangled
Mixed up metaphoric rambles
Leads you to believe you’ve been deceived
And that you mustn’t miss a beat
In trampling your only biggest enemy
Right under your own two feet,
But that pill ain’t so damn hard to swallow
But something now you eagerly greet
And this blind leader you humbly follow
And this sick poison you readily eat
“Will it make my nagging insides fly away from me?”
And I answer, only if you’re willing
To flitter away all conscious choice on these
Now tell em

Make a little fold on a page in your book
Put you on hold for a dirty little look
But I’m not tired, I’m not that powerful
And I’m not dying, there’s no such animal
Look at my blood, still shaking to silence me
Over eager, good intentions, violent man, violating
Form a little crease on the edges of acceptable
And make a little note that your thoughts are inexcusable

Having sailed the same boat
I know it’s not so nice to feel the anchor start to float
But as mutinies show,
You must abandon all your needs to let go,
And let go of all your needs to abandon,
I know
It doesn’t make any sense,
Nothing ever does
And that is only because we think that it should,
But nothing is ever bad,
And everything is always good
We just can’t amputate
The cold brats of our psyche
With no way to replace
What cannot be detached in the first place,
Cuz your peaceful feeling is fleeting
Now floundering
In its momentary ecstasy,
All at once turned into a misery,
And I thought,
This silent heaven is starting to wear off
(More please)
The silent killer self,
In my attempts to delete it
Was only concealed under it,
And
Under cover of the menacing toxin
Meant to wipe it out
Was only whited out,
And could now
Under the shade of my own indifference,
Readily unleash all the spiteful wrath of its own brazen existence

Make a little fold on a page in your book
Put you on hold for a dirty little look
But I’m not tired, I’m not that powerful
And I’m not dying, there’s no such animal
Look at my blood, still shaking to silence me
Over eager, good intentions, violent man, violating
Form a little crease on the edges of acceptable
And make a little note that your thoughts are inexcusable

I, I, anatta, nobody
I, I, anatta, nobody
I, I, anatta, nobody
I, I, anatta, nobody

And how does one
Unravel the knot
In which one has tied oneself
Without unraveling said self
And yes, we may ask the question
In a calm kind of earnest,
But is it not in fact
The burningest notion of all, namely
The sudden unraveling of decency
In favor of
Tranquility
Medicinally
Induced in me
Produced a kind of
Reverse rapidity
A sudden and very quick
Slowing down of all my wits
And while I was for a number of minutes
In a bliss and in an indescribable peace
I had only to be reminded of
The clamoring world directly above me
My silent sea, my still ocean
But my poor scape-goated ego
In exile
Little anchor now felt such anger
Meant to make me feel the murderousness
Of all the meaningless I had
Imprinted on its existence
In other words,
It saw that I sought to suppress a bottomless pit
And the absurdity inherent in this
For emptiness cannot be forced down
Will not succumb to force for the sake
Of what you call real
Over and above it
Will not stand for force for the sake of force
But perhaps for the sake of farce
May make you repent a little
For belittling the only wits you have left within you
So never believe for a moment
That you can out wit
That gaping, glaringly actual nothingness
Inherent in all your attempts at betterment
Because, believe me son,
All this silliness will only lead to bitterness
Our wits will always out wit us
They will always come out
Still sitting on top of us
And there will never be any doubt ever
Whose ego had the better
Of the most diabolically confused attempts
To blot it out to its bloody ends
I should have left, as the wisely careless say,
Well enough alone
And held my fallible little ego
As something to own
Oh, and it’s nearly impossible, but still so admirable
I will own my blown over ego
Instead of owning up to an inescapably feeble and failed attempt to let go of it
Burning and miserable intellect
(I’ll slow down to reattach it)

So good night
My burning egos,
Let he who sleeps the soundest
Cast the first stony glare of distrust and indifference
For there is none around you who has not felt the buzzing hum
Of their own unignorable emptiness

(I, I, Anatta, Nobody)
They say let go of yourself
But there’s nothing left to let go of
Say let go of yourself
But there’s nothing left to let go of
(I, I, Anatta, Nobody)
Track Name: Method
Crouched here,

In my missile, defenseless

Comfortable,

Watching bullets wash over my metal

From my standpoint,

It’s not at all like Hell

Cuz I’m numb to it now,

And there’s no telling how

It came to this

This anti-bliss,

I can’t even make a fist but I’m restless as hell

So get me outta this chamber ring the bells and glory glory

I’ll tell you a story, fairly boring and barely starting:

How I made it past the parting, past the thwarting waves to save my life.



(I was in a bad place, terrifically deep below the surface of what people call “reality”, don’t mind if I mix my metaphors sometimes it’s called for.)



Get up now,

Jump on top of the ones who keep you down



Get up now,

Jump on top of the ones who keep you down



And if you don’t know how,

Just watch the ones who know how to get it done



Cuz broadly speaking, sometimes fighting back can be a lot of fun



I promise not to give you any specific information about my life,

While I quite generically wax over a few of my most intense gripes

On second thought, I pledge not to wax at all

I’ll just hand it over, all my frustration in a hardened little ball

No specifics: just the absolute escape of scream

Not so angry now, just toss it out there, remember we’re a team

I’ll catch your rage, play hot potato, just lettin off some steam

It’s never a cliche when my baby gets mad at the machine



Get up now,

Jump on top of the ones who keep you down



Get up now,

Jump on top of the ones who keep you down



And if you don’t know how,

Just watch the ones who know how to get it done



Cuz broadly speaking, sometimes fighting back can be a lot of fun



So listen here, my ecstasy is a kind of rageful empowerment

It’s all rather generic, when you’re a general heretic

What’ve you got for me to stand against, I’m fenced in

And I wanna make broad, sweeping rebellion just to make sure that I’m tellin him

About the furious merriment sentiment, dadaistic blissful ballistics

And if I had to pin it down, I think I’d mostly blame the clown

Who drugged me up in such high doses, contributed to my psychosis

Which cost me a job as the economy tanked, which was especially thanks

To the lunatistically capitalistic, deregulatedly financially fascistic

False derivative-deriving selfish and conniving economic mystics

And in the midst of this, I’m unemployed with a sickness



So I thought, louder and louder, till I whispered louder and louder, till I mumbled louder and louder, till I spoke, louder and louder, till I affirmed, louder and louder, till I yelled, louder and louder, till I shouted, louder and louder, till I screamed, louder and louder, till I lost my voice a hundred billion times, and it was just the sound of prison bars struck like chimes



Get up now

Jump on top of the ones who keep you

Jump on top of the ones who keep you down

Get up now

Jump on top of the ones who keep you

Jump on top of the ones who keep you down
Track Name: STTC
I try to stay focused

Stand on my toes to feel the sun

When I try to unfold

Everything gets cold and I know that I’m not the one

(2x)



But that’s just current future, talking to me,

It says I’m less than naught, and I’ll never be free

And I’m nothing, just a stain on the map,

Too restless to think, too tired to change that



The space in my spirit, though, is bridged and back

Cuz across the pond I see beyond the gap

So despite all the space they say separates our faces

We’ll each of us refuse to keep our psyches in their places



So everybody make a constellation with your fellows

And if you think you make a hollow sound when you really bellow

Open up your eyes and your hands and your throats

And stand up with the broken nothing, harmonize with something crushing



You found the sound that shatters what matters

Your tunes tell me that I’m already free

Your noise gives girls and boys the most joys

And even though we’ve never met I think we’d make a nice duet



So beat on the keys like a slow disease

I’ll chant the words to a circular breeze

And maybe this is what a happy dead god sees

Cuz death is happy for a god to get up off his knees



Now I’m nervous from sitting so frozen in place

I’m desperate and I’m raving but I’m quiet cuz I’m caving in

I can’t keep looking at the same cold thoughts

And all the battles that I coulda won if I’d only fought



I’m frustrated like dogs that wanna be men

Concentrated raging apathy uninterested catastrophe

There ain’t a lot I care for, but burning on the sun

And I know that I’m not the only one



So beat on the keys like a slow disease

I’ll chant the words to a circular breeze

And maybe this is what a happy dead god sees

Cuz death is happy for a god to get up off his knees



Open the box and see what we become

Trials with styles ad infinitum

Maybe we’re shady but we’re not a system

Just a smoldering psalm, and a feverish calm

(and a feverish calm)



Everything, everywhere

Everything in the sun, now

Burning free, just to be

New to the world like I wouldn’t believe

(2x)

Free to be sunspots on the sun

Standing Tall To Cataclysm

Everyone go get yourself some

Standing Tall To Cataclysm